


In The Throne Room

by TheMightyGhost



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Loki (Marvel)'s Horned Helmet, NSFW, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Loki, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:44:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyGhost/pseuds/TheMightyGhost
Summary: Loki and his bride take great pleasure in defiling the Allfather's throne.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	In The Throne Room

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is man enjoy ??

He had her right where he wanted her. On the throne, her thighs draped over his broad shoulders, her sex pressed against his mouth and tongue. She was squirming, gripping onto the horns of his helmet for dear life, guiding his head as she ground herself into him, desperately seeking her own release.

Her hand slapped down against the arm of the throne, her body tensing as her end neared. He lessened his ministrations just long enough for her to calm down a little, unwilling to end their activity so soon. He suckled on the soft flesh of her thighs while his fingers greedily pushed the skirt of her dress further up until he could see her belly. 

Quite abruptly, she yanked the helmet from him and tossed it aside without a second thought, the loud clattering echoing throughout the throne room, but neither of them acknowledged it. Her hands were in his hair by that point, pulling and tugging roughly on the dark strands, sending bolts of burning pleasure tearing through him, his already hard manhood desperate to be free of the confines of his trousers.

Her trembling fingers began fumbling with his ceremonial armour, unfastening his cape from his shoulders, sending it tumbling to the ground in a messy heap. She pulled him up by the head and into a deep kiss, her tongue pushing past his lips desperately, her lust building. 

With his fingers also trembling, he focused on unbuckling his chestplate first, tossing it away to join the helmet on the floor. His green jerkin remained in place for the time being as his bride focused on pushing her hand through the placket of his trousers, reaching for his weeping manhood which twitched in her hold as soon as it had sprung free.

Smearing his arousal over the tip, she adjusted her position, lifting her hips so she was able to guide him into her. He pushed forward, bringing her legs back with him, pressing them down folded against her chest as he went all the way to the hilt, stifling a groan of appreciation as she clenched almost painfully around him.

Her hands were holding onto the back of her knees, her feet pointed skywards. He arched himself over her so he could start kissing her, snapping his hips into hers at a steady pace, skin slapping against skin. He brought her legs up so her ankles were resting on his shoulders, and as he straightened out, they remained in place, allowing him to thrust deeper into her womanhood, their combined essences already staining the throne they were defiling.

She gripped onto the bottom of the throne, using it as leverage to pull herself into him, reaching each thrust he gave with her own, leaving them both breathless and trembling, drawing ever closer to the brink of bliss. He tossed his head back, dark hair falling over his face but he paid it no heed, too absorbed in his pleasure and hers to care about what state he was in. When he looked down upon her, with her heaving breasts and face contorted with pleasure, he found himself automatically lifting her up, holding her in his arms as he started a punishing pace, one which made her cry out loudly, no doubt loud enough to be heard by the guards stationed outside the chamber door.

She hooked her arm around his neck as her legs slipped down to around his waist, locked in place around him. Her free hand roughly pulled at his hair, her lips pressing on his insistently, both of them panting, breathless, voices hoarse and growing hoarser by the minute. 

He pulled out only so he could turn her around and push her onto the throne with her back facing him, on her knees with her hands gripping the top of the throne, held in place by his hands as he knelt behind her on the seat of the throne and started another punishing pace. He sucked and bit on her neck and shoulder, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth, panting hard as she cried out his name over and over, dissolving into gibberish as her pleasure spiked and swelled, destroying her completely from the inside out. 

He tugged on the fabric of her dress, removing the bindings which held the corset in place, allowing the garment to become loose enough for him to fondle and squeeze her breasts with ease. She arched her back, looking over her shoulder at him, eyes hooded and dark with desire, cheeks burning bright red, lips parted, drawing in breaths as her pleasure reached its apex. 

His fingers wrapped around and squeezed her throat as he began pressing open mouth kisses to her cheek, gritting his teeth when his climax shot through him unexpectedly, triggered by her clamping down around him like a hot, wet vice. They cried out as one, slowly coaxing one another out from their blissful state, slowing the thrusts of their hips until they came to a gradual conclusion.

Resting his forehead to her back, he gave himself a moment to calm down, easing himself out of her womanhood, gleefully pleased by the mess they had left behind on his father’s throne. He only wondered if the guards had alerted the King to the situation happening in the throne room. Apparently they had, for as soon as he was standing up, he heard the heavyset doors swing open, followed by a very irate old one-eyed man storming inside flanked by two guards and tailed by his wife. 

“Loki! What have I told you about defiling my throne?”

He cracked a smug smile. “Defiling? Oh, no, Father. I assure you, we haven’t  _ defiled  _ your throne. We’ve merely made it the conception place of your future grandchild.”

The expression on his father’s face was worth all the gold in the Nine Realms.


End file.
